


like a ghost

by sunflower_8



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: ... some of the tags cut off okay., Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kamukura Izuru Project | Hope Cultivation Plan, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Panic Attacks, Pre-Canon, Suicidal Thoughts, Teacher-Student Relationship, Trauma, Unhealthy Relationships, Unreliable Narrator, Unresolved Emotional Tension, cannot say this enough. the teacher student relationship is not healthy, sorry for villainizing kirigiri jin again but, vent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:41:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27561688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflower_8/pseuds/sunflower_8
Summary: it’s a long moment of quiet before hinata talks again. komaeda busies himself with pulling out blades of grass and four leaf clovers from the ground, tarnishing the perfect landscaping of hope’s peak academy with his wicked touch. it’s fine, though. he’s been doing that ever since he came here. hinata interrupts that train of thought before it goes any further and says, “what are you planning to do after?”irony is quite a fascinating thing.(hinata and komaeda spend time together a week before the kamukura project, and komaeda realizes something that destroys the hopeful veneer he always had. please mind the tags and starting note before reading.)
Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito, Kirigiri Jin/Komaeda Nagito (mentioned)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 113





	like a ghost

**Author's Note:**

> all of the tags should clue you in to what this fic is going to entail, but just wanted to emphasize here.
> 
> in this fic, komaeda goes through the distressing process of realizing that something he took as 'okay' is traumatizing him. it's shown to be a fairly intense sequence of thought and actions, with some implied graphic detail. while this fic does not necessarily need an explicit warning-- at least, i did not see it as needed-- please be cognizant of this. it can be triggering.
> 
> for those who connect to this-- i believe you, and i hope you can find ways to cope. 
> 
> (there will not be a recovery piece to this, as i am not capable of writing that myself. i apologize for that.)

komaeda and hinata don’t talk much, in the lead up.

well. a retraction from that, setting the scene, whatever you can call the details of something that is so _big picture_ that komaeda almost missed it. hinata is a reserve course student, komaeda is the ultimate lucky, and somewhere along the line they developed some kind of relationship that is no less _friendship_ than it is _rivalry._ just. somewhere in between.

komaeda despises nuance, in this sense.

they started talking once in something happenstance, something komaeda didn’t really care to remember. either way, either way-- they’re here now, in this fucked up sort of space, where the kamukura izuru project is set to begin in a week (and hinata always asked _how did you know_ and komaeda always replied _i’m in the headmaster’s office quite often_ and it was apparent, then, that neither of them are devoid of secrets).

it’s interesting. komaeda isn’t quite sure what to do after this point. kamukura izuru, by all rights, should be _all the more hopeful_ than hinata hajime is. hinata hajime is awkward and distressingly earnest, high in empathy and silly, selfish romantics; kamukura izuru _will be_ calm and detached, cocky with an elevated level of _worth,_ someone komaeda would die for a thousand times and never get anything back except his attention.

in every way, komaeda should _welcome_ this-- hell, _beckon it_ \-- because… because it would be _wonderful,_ to see that hope, to get even the sliver of a change to _defile it,_ to _raise it higher,_ to _die for it, a thousand times over._ hinata hajime is nothing, so he should _mean_ nothing, because komaeda knows this fate of existence better than he could ever know himself. 

and yet. when komaeda looks at hinata hajime-- tilts his head, fucks with the framing, catches him in the sunlight and the moonlight, in his dorm room or in the courtyard-- he can’t imagine something like _that_ being bred of _hinata hajime._

_even worse,_ komaeda thinks, _i’m not sure i’d want it._

an idiotic thought, really. komaeda is accustomed to losing. komaeda has never had anything, friends that flickered, authority figures that showed him the hope they had for a few brief moments before they got taken, _heart attacks and cancer,_ and all of the people he has ever considered a _friend_ or a _crush_ had found someone better than him-- and of course they did, _komaeda is like a ghost,_ and hinata hajime never was, and it’s such a redundant, impertinent point to return in his head but it makes sense, then, that hinata is leaving.

_don’t take it personally,_ hinata had told him once. komaeda thought that was the only thing that kept him from being a ghost, so he was really quite confused. nobody gave him any guidance, there. so he did. 

take it personally, that is.

it makes it all the more interesting, in any case.

he looks over at hinata, now. he has bags underneath his eyes, messy hair like he just left bed (if he ever got sleep in the first place), calloused hands, a distinct scent of not having showered much recently, bandages for what he had said were _just paper cuts,_ but komaeda knows that lie like the back of his scarred thigh. in any case, hinata isn’t quite the most _pleasant_ to look at, at the moment, but he has his charm. it’s just hidden under layers and layers of exhaustion.

komaeda almost wishes the project would come faster. would it make hinata look better? feel better? he’s curious! and perhaps a little sympathetic.

sympathetic. _sympathetic._ he giggles out loud, voice raspy, and hinata shoots him a concerned glance. _sympathetic._ how stupid of him. _sympathy for the not quite devil, from the devil?_ komaeda really is losing his mind.

“it’s nothing, hinata-kun,” he reassures, still laughing a bit. “just a funny thought.”

“your ‘funny thoughts’ tend to be something fairly concerning, i’ve noticed.” hinata still has bite to him, the same sort of stubbornness komaeda has always adored (adored?), but it’s a lot quieter, now. it makes sense, in some sort of way-- not nearly enough, but maybe it isn’t supposed to. komaeda despises that disparity.

haha. _despairity_ . wordplay was never _quite_ his thing, but it’s a funny enough quip.

either way, he waves off hinata’s concern with a huff. “that’s quite an assumption to make, reserve-kun.” he hears hinata take in the same agitated breath of air he always does, at that. it’s sort of cute. “even if this was correct, you’re the one who appears more concerning, at the moment.”

hinata laughs, coming out rough and harsh. brief. “are you kidding me? you’re the one who acts like a damn suicide case half the time.”

“you are the one who _is_ a suicide case, hinata-kun.”

hinata stops laughing. komaeda decides it would be best not to start, himself.

it’s a long moment of quiet before hinata talks again. komaeda busies himself with pulling out blades of grass and four leaf clovers from the ground, tarnishing the perfect landscaping of hope’s peak academy with his wicked touch. it’s fine, though. he’s been doing that ever since he came here. hinata interrupts that train of thought before it goes _any further_ and says, “what are you planning to do after?”

irony is quite a fascinating thing.

“it’s awfully bold of you to presume that your surgery would affect me _greatly,_ hinata-kun.” hinata shakes his head, and, well. komaeda just laughs and carries on, “i suppose i would keep trying to further everyone’s hope, serving as a stepping stool! help out the teachers as best i can,” there’s a hitch in his breath, “the students, even _kamukura izuru._ ” now there’s a hitch in the _other’s_ breath. how offensively comical. “so, things really will just be the same, haha!”

“are you sure about that?” hinata presses. “i’m not going to say i have this huge role in your life, because you like to make it abundantly clear that i mean nothing to you, but, y’know. shit is going to change, definitely. and even if it doesn’t… are you really okay with that?”

“i’m not quite _okay_ with anything, hinata-kun.” komaeda retorts, drawing his knees to his chest and tracing the dirt with an equally dirty finger. “but as long as everyone else is okay, then i’ve served my purpose!”

hinata moves a bit closer, and komaeda just sighs at his disheartened, argumentative tone. “i won’t be okay, for one. maybe you need to consider yourself in this whole equation, komaeda. what are _you_ happy with?”

“you really could have been an ultimate therapist in another life,” komaeda remarks. it would have been nice, he thinks, if hinata were an ultimate. it would make things so much easier. (but it would be one more person to worship, and really, _this is komaeda’s purpose,_ and he has no _issue_ with it, but sometimes it gets so incredibly _suffocating_ , trying to make everyone happy, that he feels like a flame just about to burn out and he uses the happiness of others as oxygen, their pain as gasoline, and he doesn’t know when the flame will burn out but his entire body feels like it’s on _fire fire fire,_ and he can’t keep _doing this,_ but if it makes the teachers, the students, _kirigiri jin himself_ so _happy,_ who is _komaeda nagito_ to-!)

hinata’s hand rests on his knee, and komaeda breaths out shakily. the reserve course student doesn’t say anything, which komaeda is silently grateful for, but it leaves a space where he has to speak, himself. “i’m happy with this, hinata-kun. i’m so happy that i feel sad. isn’t that fascinating?”

“you should see the school therapist, komaeda,” he says gently.

“what? and have sex with her, too?” hinata stops dead, entire body going still. komaeda giggles, or maybe he hyperventilates; it’s quite hilarious how trauma works. “that was a _joke,_ hinata-kun.”

he looks awfully harrowed for something that he isn’t involved in. “i didn’t think it was funny.”

“maybe you have poor taste.” komaeda argues, before his head lights up with an idea. “say, hinata-kun, on that poor taste note… if you ever needed some stress relief _before the surgery,_ i’m always here for you to-”

hinata throws his hand off komaeda’s knee, and he _almost_ wants to reach and pull it back on there, because it really felt quite nice, but he just watches with some amusement (and something else, sad and pathetic, in him) as hinata’s face flickers between _anger_ and _confusion_ and _pity._ his voice has all three in them, “what the _fuck_ is wrong with you, komaeda?”

“i meant it,” he replies mildly, back to picking out strands of grass. 

“that’s what makes it _more fucked up,_ komaeda, what the _fuck._ ” hinata runs his hands through his hair, looking a lot more worked up than he has the past few weeks. it’s almost like the old hinata is coming back. that must mean komaeda is doing well, right? or maybe he’s doing more harm than good. “you- you do realize that isn’t normal, right? you’re seventeen, komaeda, we’re _both seventeen_.”

komaeda tilts his head. “and?”

“ _you shouldn’t be having sex with the headmaster, komaeda_ !” he says in one rushed breath, and it’s so, _so_ funny that komaeda almost throws up.

“well, if it makes him happy-”

“do you like it?” hinata presses desperately, “do you _like_ being used like that? is that- is that something you _get off to?_ ”

_well, that is the idea of sex, yes._ and yet, komaeda isn’t so confident. “what i think doesn’t matter, hinata-kun.”

“i’m inclined to take that as a no, then.” hinata tugs at a strand. komaeda wishes that hand was in his hair. “how did you even start doing it? did you just walk up there and-”

“it’s more accurate to say that he called me up there himself,” he explains slowly, and oddly enough, he feels somewhat detached from his body as he says it. hm. interesting. “i suppose you wouldn’t want the graphic details, but i noticed his gaze was rather… intrigued, so i took my move and went with it. it wasn’t too awful, because i knew that hope would follow!”

something in hinata’s eyes flicker. komaeda thinks it’s understanding. “hope follows from despair, doesn’t it?”

“ah, yes! it seems like you _were_ paying attention to my rambles.”

hinata flushes, just a bit. it dies as soon as he talks, though-- which is odd, because aren’t these sorts of things supposed to _fluster_ boys like him? isn’t that healthy? it doesn’t fluster komaeda, of course, not so much, but he’s always been sick. “so if you said hope would follow, does that mean that it was despair? him... _doing that_ to you?”

komaeda opens his mouth to retort, and then he pauses. 

_oh._ komaeda understands, now. hinata thinks that komaeda didn’t want that to… 

… 

komaeda _laughs._

it’s a wheeze, something drawn so _strongly_ from his throat that it _aches_ , so _violent and harmful that komaeda isn’t sure he’ll be able to breathe again,_ something rather typical for someone as _awful_ as him. his hands go up to grasp at his hair, and he feels something on his knee, _bend over the knee,_ and his brain flashes through images he _never_ could tell _anyone_ about-- and it’s _fine,_ nobody has to _know,_ it’s their little secret and hinata’s going to die off anyway, kamukura _wouldn’t remember it,_ but that thought, while it should be comforting, makes komaeda want to die _so, so much more,_ and does he _want_ to die, underneath _those hands around his neck and_ maybe he’s just making this up because _this couldn’t have happened, not to him, there’s no good luck yet so maybe he’s just having wet dreams about being abused,_ because that’s one _freaks_ do, and he’s hyperventilating so much that it breaks out into dry sobs,

and hinata wraps his arms around him.

he sobs again, clings to his arms, digging his nails in-- he hears hinata hiss but he doesn’t stop holding him-- and _everything_ crosses his mind. is this despair? was this… was this all _despair?_ it couldn’t have been, if komaeda _wanted it,_ but did he- did he? did he _want that?_ the headmaster was _attractive_ but komaeda doesn’t- the thought of his touch- _he’s going to throw up-_

“komaeda,” hinata says, and he can hear him now. he sounds desperate. “komaeda, shh, it’s fine. it’s- fuck, it’s fine, sorry i asked. shit, just… come back to me, alright? you’re fine. you’re… you’re fine.” komaeda tucks his head against his neck, and hinata holds him tighter. “yeah. you’re fine.”

“it’s like the project, if you think about it,” komaeda whispers, voice shaking and watery. “both times, a seventeen year old’s body…” is this sympathy? is _that_ what this is? 

“... it‘s not the same thing, komaeda,” hinata argues, “just focus on breathing.”

komaeda tries, to his credit. 

then he thinks about a hand inside of him while he _screams,_ and he pulls away from hinata to retch into the grass. _ruining the perfect landscaping…_ he tastes bile in his throat and does it again, nothing coming out-- he hasn’t eaten recently, has he?-- and hinata just _watches,_ biting his lip and rubbing his back.

breathing doesn’t come easily. but as he sits there, chest heaving, eyes shut tightly as hinata sits there, he finds himself drawn back to reality. it must take twenty minutes, or some inconvenient amount of time to get himself there, and komaeda becomes distinctly aware of the fact that hinata must be late to class, now. but the reserve still sits there, mumbling assurances that come out awkward yet _genuine,_

and komaeda, the worthless bastard he is, can only think to say, “it’ll be just like that.”

hinata sighs, shaking his head, moving closer. “it won’t be. that’s not the point of the project.”

“you didn’t read the fine print.”

“you-” hinata pauses before dropping it. “doesn’t matter. it’s fine, komaeda.”

“i don’t want you to get hurt, hinata-kun.” komaeda says raspily, and hinata looks at him skeptically. “don’t get me wrong, i… i don’t think you’re worth anything, still, but…” hinata’s face softens, and komaeda closes his eyes again, “i don’t want that to happen.”

“i’ll be okay.” hinata wraps an arm around him hesitantly, and komaeda lets him. how stupid. “i really will be. i’m more concerned about…”

“i’ll be fine too, hinata-kun,” komaeda insists. “but... please don’t press.”

“i won’t.” hinata really is too considerate. “i’m sorry i did in the first place.”

komaeda shakes his head, leaning into hinata’s touch, and the conversation drops off from there. it feels sort of like hinata isn’t a rival _or_ a friend, right now, something… different, but komaeda has never been good at breaching that. _especially_ when hinata kisses his forehead, seemingly on impulse, and he wonders if it’s okay for him to indulge in something like that.

if either of them are okay to indulge at all. 

hinata looks like he’s about to apologize, but komaeda just moves closer to him, thoughts much _slower_ but still preoccupied. maybe kamukura izuru will be better than hinata hajime, in every possible way. but similar to how komaeda doesn’t remember the komaeda that _wasn’t_ like a ghost, he isn’t sure he could find kamukura izuru in hinata hajime’s eyes.

the grass from the ground stained his fingers green, and it reminds him of hinata, again. he can’t help but look up at the other, face tired but flushed in a way that solidifies that hinata is _alive._

_i wonder what it would be like without you,_ komaeda wants to say.

but those are all just broken sentiments.

**Author's Note:**

> for those concerned. i am okay. just needed to vent some things through this. i am not in active harm.
> 
> i may orphan this, admittedly, but we will have to see.
> 
> i wish you all the best. i hope today is kind to you. please, please, please stay safe. i love you.


End file.
